"... who invited me up to his VIP box at the World Cup. That was when I advised him that his current policy on - My gods man, there is a lady present, put on some clothing!" Horace Slughorn gaped at the centaur that entered the teacher's lounge where, up until a moment ago, Horace had been regailing the lovely reporter with terribly interesting stories from his past.
Firenze merely blinked at him and the reporter before scratching a hand acrossed his bare chest, his tail flicking sharply was the only outward sign of irritation before he turned to speak to Professors Sprout and Trewlaney.
Hagrid hurried over to Horace's side, eager to share a bit of knowledge and to apologize for his friend. "Ah, well, Centaurs don' normally be botherin' with clothing, see. Firenze wears robes durin' his classes only as a favor ter the Headmistress."
"It's a disgrace I say," Horace harumphed. He turned toward his reporter only to find her watching Firenze closely. Too closely in his opinion.